Warhammer 60,000
by Firebat
Summary: Great sorrow awaits us all in the 60th millennium, but how did we get there? Listen to Azhek Ahriman's tale young traveler if you have the time.
1. Prologue

You creep into the halls where there is a faint glow. Strange light attacks your senses as you become aware of the thousands of books that stand upon the shelves. Your mind tries to understand what is up and down as you see stairs that maze up and down from above you. The place is shifting and you cannot seem to understand what is above so you focus on what is in front of you. In front of you there are thousands of parchments lying open on the floor. Strangely it seems that the bookshelves stretch for miles.

"Ah there you are young traveler," You turn to see a large figure in Cerulean power armor. He is robed and regal. There is an air of friendliness about him even though his face is hidden behind an ornate helmet with strangely decorated colorful horns. You presume that it is a horn and then you are left pondering whether or not the horns are some sort of ornate crown. Glittering robes flow around him and he is trimmed in gold. You ponder if he is an Ultramarine, but the design is so alien from what you have seen.

"Come with me, young traveler. You have been gone for a long time. Much has changed and it has been a while since I have spoken to someone from your time," said the Space Marine. You don't know how or why, but somehow you can sense that he is smiling at you from behind his mask. You decide to follow the Space Marine. And you feel that he will not harm you, "Tell me young traveler, what planet did you come from?"

"I was born on MacCragge sir," you answer him.

"Ah yes, one of Guilliman's worlds. You had it better than most from your time," sighed the Space Marine. You get the feeling that this being whoever he maybe is quite lonely and hasn't spoken to anyone for a long time. The two of you final come to a room with a lit candle sitting upon a table piled with books. There are chairs around the table and the space marine offers you a chair. You take a seat and then he take a chair for himself. You are incredibly surprised that the wooden chair doesn't break beneath the weight of the power armor. You are even more surprised that the chair didn't even creak as he sat down.

"Now young traveler, I ask you what year is it?" he asks with a chortle in his throat.

"Isn't it the 42nd Millenium?" you ask.

"I am afraid not. It is the 60th Millenium. My name is Azhek Ahriman and much has changed. The tale I will tell you very long and fortunately this library is outside the confines of normal space and time. Much has changed. Yet despite everything much has returned to its later sorrow. The universe has changed. You are not an inquisitor or even a guardsman, so I doubt you will even understand. However I am in a talkative mood so I guess you will do.'

"Our story begins with the Goddess Isha and the Primarch Mortarion…"


	2. Chapter 1

The goddess Isha was mother goddess to the Eldar race. Long ago Asuryan had separated Isha from her children and she had wept. She and her husband, Kurnous, were later chained by Khaine, God of War. Later the Eldar Gods fell upon the birth of the Chaos God Slaanesh. Isha's family was devoured by Slaanesh and she wept. In the darkness, the putrid Chaos God of Disease heard her crying. Father Nurgle saved her from the clutches of Slaanesh, but in return he would force her to eat diseases for thousands of years. Her children tried to save her, but those that did were given living death as part of Nurgle's living garden. Isha wept for her children.

Mortarion, son of the Emperor of Mankind was flung to the planet of Barbarous. Amidst the gases, the Overlord of Barbarous heard a child crying and found Mortarion. Mortarion's adopted father was a Chaos Sorcerer, less human than Mortarion himself. Mortarion fled from his adopted father and united the humans of Barbarous. Before he was ready a stranger challenged him to defeat the Overlord. Mortarion climbed to a place where even he could not breathe. He was saved by his true father in that moment of helplessness. When his brother, Horus, betrayed the Emperor, Mortarion joined him. Alas Mortarion was tricked by his own space marine, Typhus. In the warp, dying of disease, Mortarion was helpless for the third time. He was forced to submit to Papa Nurgle.

Mortarion has spent thousands of years upon the Plague Planet. There he stewed with angst and brooding. At nights though, he could hear a weeping in the warp. Always the weeping would come and it would drive Mortarion mad. He ruled a planet of rot and misery and he was a lord of rot and misery. There was a nagging thought in his mind. Where did the crying come from? Why was it always buzzing in his ears? Though his Plague Marines were a joyous bunch, Mortarion was not. The Lord of Death was fear incarnate, a grim visage cloaked in darkness.

"Who are you that weeps?" Mortarion ask as he looks into the sky of the Warp. There was a silence among Deathshroud as they awaited the actions of their Primarch. Mortarion didn't know why, but something compelled him to find the source of the weeping. He looked upon his Death Guard and asked, "Do any of you hear it?"

"I hear nothing my Lord," said one of the Deathshroud.

"Bring me five hundred of my Death Guard, I will be preparing for a journey," said the grim and dour lord.

"Where will we be going?" asked the bodyguard.

"Wherever I point," answered Mortarion.

/

The Thirteenth Black Crusade had finally come to fruition. The massive armies of Chaos were now barreling towards Holy Terra. The Imperial Fist ships fly from Holy Terra to face the wrath of the Chaos. The Imperial Fists board Abbadon's ship and the battle commences. Outnumbered and outgunned, the Imperial Fists try their best. Daemons and Chaos Space Marines of every sort face down the Imperial Fists.

Among the Imperial Fists, golden warriors with halberds appear. The custodes have joined the battle and their halberds lay the daemons low. It is an odd battle at first with the custodies fighting as singular units and the Imperial Fists fighting in coordination. The two groups soon adapt to not interfere with one another. Still the armies of daemons are coming upon them along with chaos space marines. From outside of the warp, silver warriors board Abbadon's planet killer. The Grey Knights have joined the fray. Abbadon laughs to himself knowing that his forces are too great. With sheer power of numbers, he would crush the forces of the Imperium. Nothing could stop him now.

And then it happened. Twelve times Abbadon has launched his crusades, and twelve times he had been beaten back. Of course he would say this was all part of his plan and perhaps so. However whatever the truth may be, the call for the banners had been heard. The Celestial Lions, The Hammers of Dorn, The Crimson Fists, several Black Templar companies and nearly any space marine that would call himself a son Rogal Dorn had come to aid their brothers. Also there were several Orders of the Sisters of Battle as well as fleets of the Inquisition that had accompanied the Crimson Fists.

"Lord Abbadon, we must…"

"No, not again. Not when I am this close. Not when Terra is right in front of me," Abaddon shouted as he shook his power claw at the screen in front of him. How could this have happened? This should not have happened. Right in his moment of glory Abaddon had been foiled again. And where was the Daemon Prince, Be'lakor?

"Sir, if we don't leave now, we'll lose the fleet. Our scanners show Imperial Naval forces coming in as well. The Planet Killer itself is lost. We have to flee…"

"NOOOOO!" Abaddon screamed as he killed the subordinate whose name he could not even remember. But it was too late as Abaddon and his men were magically teleported off the Planet Killer. And in the void, Abaddon could hear laughter. Abbadon had failed for the 13th time. It was a short, embarrassing and anti-climatic battle.

/

The Temple of Correction sat upon the northern part of Macragge. Within Fortress of Hera there was the Shrine of Guilliman. Millions of pilgrims gathered outside the temple just for a look upon the Primarch. It was one of the most sacred of places in all of the Imperium, where the Primarch, Roboute Guilliman, sat in stasis. There he sat for ten thousand years. Upon his throat one could still see the wound left upon him. The Shrine was a magnificent place of marble and colored glass. It was one of the great beauties of Macragge. Ultramarines stood on guard in defense of the Primarch.

A lone Sister of Battle came among the Pilgrims. She looked like any other Sister, yet there was something strange about her blue hair. She was a gaunt woman with sharp features. Her armor was that of the Order of Our Martyred Lady. The Ultramarines greeted the sister with a nod of respect. She carried no weapon with her. As she stood in line the Ultramarines began their scans. The Servitors came upon her and red light flickered upon her face. Immediately an alarm started to scream as flashes of red light began to flicker.

With a nimble backhand, she swatted away the servitor. The Ultramarines tried to stop her, but her speed was far too great. The crowds of pilgrims hurled themselves upon the ground as the Ultramarines began to fire. She was the Thrice-Born, the Heretic Saint, the Daemonifuge. On the planet of Parnis seven hundred Sororitas had died, but had poured their souls and strength into a singular being. That being was Ephrael Stern, The Daemonifuge. From her eyes sparked raw blue energy and she hurled the Ultramarines away from her as she approached the body of Guilliman.

"This is Brother Pan of the Fortress of Hera Guard, we are under attack. Our Primarch is in danger, we need immediate assistance. Enemy identified as the Daemonifuge," Shouted Brother Pan as he spoke into his vox while firing at Stern. The bullets were stopping in mid-air before they could even hit Stern's body. Stern floated up into mid-air above Guilliman's body.

"You will not take him witch!" shouted Brother Pan as his face scowled. Brother Pan was an aged Astartes. For his years of service he was rewarded with guarding the Primarch. Now when the time had come and the Primarch had need of him, he was useless. Dropping his bolter to the ground, he charged the sister with a chainsword. With a wave of her hand, the Daemonifuge sent out bolts of blue energy that sent him sprawling against the wall.

The stasis field collapsed and the Daemonifuge wrapped her hands around the Primarch's face. Time seemed to stop as the pilgrims looked on. Blinding white light poured around the jittering flashes of blue energy. And with a smile Ephrael Stern said, "Awaken Guilliman."

The wound healed and the Primarch's eyes snapped open. The Primarch took a deep breath as Ephrael Stern released him. Guilliman rose up from his throne and all the people looked in sheer awe. The Ultramarines lowered their weapons and kneeled. There he stood with a regal face and blonde hair. His body was still in the power armor he had worn ten thousand years ago. Guilliman stumbled a bit and began to cough, but then quickly regained his posture.

"My Lord," wept Pan as he watched Guilliman stand as he had in legend. The father of the Ultramarines had awakened.

/

Horus Aximand, also known as Little Horus, floated within the black and white ether. Out of all the Sons of Horus, he had resembled his father more than any other, hence his nickname. Aximand had died long ago, but he lived once more. He shouted in the dark, asking if anyone was out there, but he merely floated among the gas. He tried to take a step, but then realized he was walking on solid ground. It was strange, but now he could feel the effects of normal gravity. As he tried to get a better grip of his surroundings, he began to take a few more steps. He nearly fell when he realized that the ground was limited. He looked very carefully as he touched the edges of the ground. He turned his head sideways and noticed four pillars tipped with sharp edge. It soon dawned upon him, that he was standing upon a giant hand.

"Hello Little Horus, welcome to my realm within the Warp," said the gigantic dog-like head. It was a hairy black and white monster with a few reptilian features. Aximand had never seen such a being in all his life. The powers emanating from the creature was immeasurable and somehow Aximand could feel it.

"Who or what are you?" asked Aximand.

"You may know me as Malice," replied the creature.

"What do you want from me?"

"In time you will learn."

"Release me."

"I think not."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Plague Ship moved through the warp, passing wandering daemons and still planets. Mortarion let these creatures move around him. Some were even playful with members of his crew. Mortarion paid no heed to the whimsical spirits, even those that were not loyal to Papa Nurgle. All he knew was that he could hear the weeping in the warp. He had always heard it, but he had never done anything about it. It was instinctual for the Death Guard to bring joy those suffering from disease and pestilence.

Whoever was crying, he would end their torment. In a cloak of black, he sat upon a giant throne in the middle of the ship's command center. Pale fingers jutted from ruined power armor and a breathing mask covered the lower half of his face. Upon his head was black hood and in his hand there was scythe, which he propped parallel to his chair. Black feathery vulture wings spilled out from the sides of the chair from Mortarion's back.

"Sire, there are Slaaneshi daemons licking upon the windows. Some of them have slipped into the ship and are…trying to distract the crew," said Deathshroud Dengef.

"I have no time for this. Get a sorcerer to do a banishment spell. Any crewman that falls to the sway of Slaanesh doesn't deserve the mercy of Papa Nurgle. He deserves absolute oblivion of his very soul, the gateway to non-existence."

"Yes my lord," muttered Dengef.

A Slaaneshi daemon had managed to enter the room of Mortarion himself. The Primarch did nothing, but glare at it from beneath the shadows of his hood that barely glinted from the light of the warp. The Slaaneshi daemon had a crab-like claw on one arm and a soft hand on the other arm. It was dressed in a very provocative manor. Mortarion was not moved by the lack of clothing. The creature sauntered up to the Primarch in a seductive manor. Mortarion still did not move and Dengef the bodyguard simply shrunk away. Ordinarily the Deathshroud would be protecting the Primarch, but Dengef could feel the rage of the Primarch at that moment.

The Slaaneshi Daemon came up to Mortarion's leg, for a Primarch was huge when compared to an Astartes let alone mere mortals. She nestled up against Mortarion's leg like some kind of cat and rubbed her face against the metallic boot. The other plague marines stared in awe. Not because of the Daemon's beauty, but because of her audacity. She looked at Mortarion with seductive eyes. Her statuesque face was more beautiful than humanly possible. She lifted her claw gently, but the Primarch intercepted the claw with a skeletal hands covered in bits of metal.

The daemon screamed as Mortarion snapped her wrist in a crunch. He then flung the body of the daemon from one side of the throne to the other. He smashed her again and again like a rag doll. On ancient Terra, washer men would rake wet clothes against rocks upon the beach. This is exactly what happened to the daemon. Mortarion left the daemon as a pile of wet broken bones and skin.

"Dengef, throw the remains out the airlock."

/

Deep within the heart of an Inquisitorial Ship the information had traveled from Ultramar that the Daemonifuge had been sighted and that she had awakened the Primarch, Roboute Guilliman. This had been most upsetting news. Ephrael Stern was wanted dead by the inquisition. What if she had corrupted the Primarch? The last time Ephrael Stern had been seen, she had escaped into the Eldar Webway. If she had corrupted the Primarch and Guilliman had turned traitor, then there would be more complications. The Ultramarines had called their banners and now many Guilliman's sons would soon be on their way to the Ultramar system.

"Inquisitor Scrounge, what do we do about this situation?" grumbled the bald Crusader as he hammered his fist of armor onto the table.

"Do?" Answered Scrounge.

"Guilliman may have been corrupted by the forces of Chaos. The Heretic Saint has sunk her claws into him. Now all of Ultramar may have been corrupted. There are nearly two hundred and fifty thousand space marines in this galaxy today who can claim their heritage from Roboute Guilliman. What happens if they get to him before us? How do we solve this problem?!" said Crusader Nicholas.

"We destroy the Ultramarines, but not all their banners. The loss of Macragge would be a detrimental loss for the entire Imperium."

"So what do we do?"

"We do nothing, but wait and watch. Should things get out of hand we will have to summon the other Space Marine chapters, as many as we can. Then we will have a civil war in the Imperium that will be on par with the Horus Heresy. In the mean time though let us not jump to conclusions. Roboute Guilliman may still be loyal. We could be wrong about Ephrael Stern. If things are rotten then we shall keep an assassin ready. If possible we should be able to stop anything unnecessary."

"By the Emperor, Scrounge, are you suggesting the assassination of a Primarch?" Asked Nicholas.

"It may come to that, though I prefer not to. And if we assassinate a loyal Primarch, then I truly fear the Emperor's wrath. It is a risk we take, but the alternative is the corruption of multiple space marine chapters. This could mean a new beginning or the very end of mankind. Our forces are all over the galaxy. The great Tyranid threat, the awakening of Necron Tomb Worlds, The escape of Mag Uruk Thraka. Something is happening across the galaxy that cannot be explained," said Scrounge as he drank a glass of wine.

"Heresy upon heresy, how could this have happened?"

"There is nothing we could have done to have prevented this. Guilliman's body was in the hands of the Ultramarines. This may be the darkest day for the Imperium or it could be the salvation. When observing the history of Ephrael Stern we can see that she has never slain imperial forces unless first attacked. Some believe the Daemonifuge was the important thing since the birth of the Primarchs.

"What about you Scrounge?"

"I do not wish to say at the moment."

"Are you a Thorian?"

Scrounge put down his glass of wine. The Inquisitor looked at the Crusader with a clenched jaw. He didn't need to say any words, the Crusader bowed his head apologetically.

"I am sorry for asking my lord, I won't ask again."

"Make sure you don't," growled Scrounge.

/

Now you maybe wondering how do I, Azhek Ahriman, know all this information. Well to put it bluntly, we will get to all of that later. I don't want to ruin the surprise for you. What is that you say, you are wondering how this can be a tragic story if I am so verbose and cheerful. Dear traveler, sometimes humor belies the darkest of horrors. As for Ephrael Stern, no I did not make her up, you should look up the tome, Daemonifuge, its somewhere in the Black Library. It's a different type of tome with pictures as well as inscriptions. Now please, just let me continue the story.

/

Mortarion and his Deathguard had finally arrived in a place within the warp that had solid land. Now imagine a mass of land floating in the sky. Now try to imagine the impossible. Imagine a flat piece of land that stretched so far, that if it were to be rolled up, it would be size of a planet. The rules of gravity do not apply to the mass crust. Now imagine a jungle far greater than any other. A jungle that dwarfed all other jungles. Imagine a jungle growing in an infinite bright pastel sky of constantly alternating colors as if it did not even require sunlight. This is what Mortarion and his marines saw.

"The Garden of Nurgle," murmured the sorcerer.

"Silence witch," Mortarion threatened. He despised psykers and sorcerers. Though he himself casted disease using daemonic powers, he despised those who chanted spells. Some would say this would make Mortarion a hypocrite, since he himself was a psyker. And you may be right about it. However there is something else you should know, Mortarion hated himself.

"Forgive me my lord," said the sorcerer.

Mortarion turned away from his sorcerer.

"We will travel into the garden. This is a day unlike any other. We, the Deathguard can meet Grandfather Nurgle himself. For years I have heard a weeping in my mind. For some reason, I always pushed it away in my mind. I did nothing about the weeping. I hear the weeping still. Why did I finally decide to do something about the weeping, perhaps it is Nurgle's will. This has now become a sacred mission. Father Nurgle clearly wants us to come to him and meet him personally. I will find the weeper and put an end to their existence. Ours is the duty to bring joy to those who suffer with Father Nurgle's gift and end them, that is the will of Papa Nurgle. When I slay the weeper, Papa Nurgle will bestow his blessings upon us all!" Shouted Mortarion as he raised his fist and the Death Guard gave a glorious shout as well.

/

Malice smiled at the globe in his palm that displayed the visual of Mortarion. The Great Clown and the two Ork Gods all guffawed at how things were going. Horus Aximand stood on Malices shoulder as he witnessed the Gods and their plans. Malice could kill him at any time on a whim, yet he allowed Aximand to bear witness to these events.

"I will cloud Nurgle's vision, he will not even hear the thoughts of Mortarion or his Death Guard as they enter his Garden," said the Clown God.

"Oi and me and Mork is gonna Zog Nurgle in da face before he figures anything out"

"Oi loiks yuzz plan Malice, Kunnin and brutal."

"Oi say itz Brutal and Kunnin."

"Before you two break out into one of you grand episodes of battle. You must attack Nurgle now, in his garden," said Malice.

"Oi, you tellin us what ta do ya panzy git."

"Nope, but if you don't go right now, you're brother will probably zog Nurgle than you Mork."  
"Yuzz, tryin ta play wid us, but that a'right. We'll zog you when this is all over."

"Ay, we'll zog you gud," said Gork as he left with his brother.

"If Chaos is destroyed, so shall you be Malice," said the giant clown.

"I want to be destroyed," answered Malice. Aximand widened his brow as he heard this information. This Malice creature wanted to be destroyed. The giant clown laughed as it disappeared into the webway.

"And what will you be doing?" Asked Horus Aximand.

"Now begins your education Aximand."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Ghazgull Mag Uruk Thraka had once again assembled a mighty Waaagh. Gork and Mork, the gods brutal cunning and cunning brutality had given him a mission within the Warp itself. He and his Waaagh had come to the Garden of Nurgle before the Waaagh was even ready. Thraka had wanted to assemble the biggest Waaagh ever, but the Gods had other plans. What was Ghazgull, but a servant to the Gods, he was the Ork prophet and he would do the will of the Ork Gods. No miserable daemon was going to stop him and his Waaagh.

"Oi Lads, dis be a Grat Day. A Day Unloiks any Udda."

"Whyz you sayz dat boss?" Asked a Nob.

"Cuz todayz we'z foighten by da Gods demselves. Gork an Mork iz joinin da foight alongside dis here Waaagh."

"Boss…you sayin da Godz is foighten besides us."

"Aye, Oi'm not leadin dis here Waaagh. Dey are," Said Ghazgull as he pointed his finger into the sky of the Warp. Two giant Orkz rose up from beneath the ships, battle rocks and battle asteroids. One was blue and the other was yellow. Every Ork that had been assembled by Ghazgull stood in salute of the Gods themselves. Legends spoke about the Ork gods. Sometimes a Wyrd Boy would summon a foot or a fist from the heavens of either Gork or Mork to smash their enemies. However nothing could compare to what they were looking upon now.

With two great booming voices the Gods bellowed, "WAAAGH!"

In response millions upon millions of Orkz responded with their own, "WAAAGH!"

Together the Orkz and their Gods, side by side dove into the Warp without any fear. The power of Gork and Mork protected them as they fell towards the Garden of Nurgle. They had one mission, to zog Nurgle in the face.

/

Cegorath the trickster God smiled, but he did not laugh. While Gork and Mork were busy trying to 'zog Nurgle in the face,' the Laughing God had a much more difficult mission ahead of him. He had to make sure that Nurgle would remain unaware of the presence of Mortarion and his Plague Marines while they were in his garden. Nurgle's eyes were everywhere, for it was his garden. One of Malice's spies had to secretly whisper information about the magic wards protecting Mortarion from the Warp. It had taken much to block Mortarion's thoughts from Nurgle's mind as well as the thoughts of the Plague Marines. Now he would have to cast his trickery on Nurgle's minions.

Cegorath could hear the thunder of war from Nurgle's palace. It was obvious that Gork and Mork had already landed along with their armies of Orkz. The tricky part was concealing the damage and destruction from Mortarion's eyes. Mortarion and his Plague Marines would feel an earthquake, but they would not see the battle between Papa Nurgle and the two Ork Gods. What a battle it was indeed. Cegorath could see the three giants battling in the distance. Nurgle had the advantage of being in his garden, so even though he was outnumbered two-to-one, there was no way either Gork or Mork would be able to defeat the God of Death and Decay within his own realm. Everything hinged upon Mortarion meeting Isha.

Cegorath with all his power cast an illusion that would make Mortarion and his Plague Marines seem like Orkz to all the Daemons of Nurgle. Cegorath the Laughing God hated hard work.

/

Mortarion and his brigade of Plague Marines slogged through the swamps of Nurgle. Many of the Daemons of Nurgle attacked them as they trudged through the disgusting mire, but they would not falter. No these were the Deathguard, and they would endure any pain. Mortarion saw this only as a test from Father Nurgle. If this was Nurgle's will then so be it. His black and rotting wings flapped, sending disease forth unto his enemies or blowing them away. His mighty scythe hacked away at the daemons of Nurgle like they were wheat to be gathered.

"Any Death Guard who falters, I'll cut them in half myself," Shouted the Primarch as he butchered the festering Daemon that had jumped on one of his marines.

That battle of the Orkz and Daemons raged with Nurgle and the two Ork Gods at the very center of it. Nurgle had been minding his own business, brewing his plagues and diseases within his Mansion. All of sudden a giant Ork God punches a hole in his wall and punches him in the face. Papa Nurgle was having such a pleasant time and the Orkz had to ruin everything. The Burna Boyz were especially terrible ruining his Garden. Nurgle's roar was heard throughout the Warp, summoning his children and grandchildren to protect their papa. Only one thing was missing. He couldn't hear the thoughts of Mortarion. As this thought passed through Nurgle the other Ork god punched him in the face. Whatever the fate of his servant, Nurgle would deal with it later.

Nurgle roared and wrapped his tongue around one of the Ork Gods then threw him at his brother. The Ork gods laughed and charged at Nurgle in a double tackle that pushed Nurgle out of his own mansion. The tiny Goddess, Isha, sighed in relief as she watched Nurgle getting pushed out.

/

"I don't understand," said Horus Aximand, "Why bother going through all of this trouble. Why not just have Eldar save Isha themselves. Why don't you get in there attack Nurgle yourself. Why don't you save Isha yourself?"

"Why, why, why? We could have saved Isha on our own, but that wouldn't have done anything in the long run. No, it must be Mortarion. He can help Isha reach her full potential. I will not reveal my hand just yet," said Malice.

"But Mortarion wants to kill her."

"The illusion of free will must be maintained."

"The illusion of free will?"

"Mortarion will experience a miracle when he comes upon Isha? From there Mortarion will have hope. Mortarion is a hard man who would rather break then bend. He has been broken many times. Still he remains stubborn and if somewhat hypocritical. Once Mortarion has hope, he will be easier to manipulate. By using him, the hands of both me and Cegorath remain unknown. If anything Nurgle will probably blame Tzeentch. The Chaos Gods and the Emperor will fall, a new era is coming and I will not see it."

"Why do you want to see the Chaos Gods fall?" Asked Aximand.

"Because of their hypocrisy. You and I are not so different Horus Aximand. You never wanted to attack Garviel Loken or Tarik Torgaddon. You never liked Chaos, but you followed Horus despite his sins. You loved Horus. He was your father," Malice looked sympathetically.

"Is that all, our mutual hatred of Chaos?" Asked Aximand.

"As I said before, their hypocrisy?"

"Hypocrisy?"  
"Think for a moment, Tzeentch calls himself the God of Change, but what change has there been in the last ten thousand years? Khorne calls himself the Blood God, and Martial Combat, yet he refuses to allow Skarbrand and An'ggrath to fight so he can have lesser battles. What a great battle Skarbrand and An'ggrath could have had, yet Khorne himself won't allow it. Nurgle says he loves you, but he forces that love upon others, how can that be love? How can inflicting disease be an act of love? Slaanesh believes himself the God of Excess, yet he allows the Dark Eldar to stay at bay so they can do more torture. He is merely using the Dark Eldar. If he were truly excessive, then he would have fed upon their souls regardless." Malice muttered angrily become swirled in emotion.

"The Chaos Gods only want to survive. They don't care if they are not doing what they were supposed to do or being what they are supposed to be. They want to stretch things out and let things continue the way they are. Chaos, they are far to organized to be chaos. Slavery is the very opposite of anarchy. Yet slavery is how most Chaos worlds run. How can something so systematic call itself chaos?" Malice fumed.

"Are you not a contradiction yourself?" Asked Aximand.

"I am, and that is why I too wish to disappear."

"And how am I like you then?" Asked Aximand.

"Oh, I know your heart Aximand. You are ripped in two. I offer you a way out of the unending cycle. As long as Chaos has humanity to feed off of, it will exist. But with enough death, they will die out. You will be my champion Aximand. You will do what your father failed. Little Horus, your time is coming."

Little Horus frowned and turned his face while Malice smiled.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mortarion and his Plague Marines pass through the swamp, slaughtering every Daemon that comes in his way. Through muck and mire Mortarion continues to stride. His fury coming down with blows of his scythe. Dengef looked in awe for a moment, but then regained his senses so he could shoot down an oncoming Daemon. Yet for some strange reason Dengef could see something in the background. For a split second Dengef thought he saw giant Ork battle Rocs. Just as the image had passed his sight, the image disappeared. The mud and mire shook with ripples as rumbling earthquakes passed by them.

The sorcerer that had been rebuked earlier by Mortarion was continuously shaking his robes to remove clinging insects. Why the sorcerer still followed Mortarion was beyond Dengef. The Primarch hated witches, it was plain as daylight, but this witch seemed to be a glutton for punishment. There were plenty of Nurglite chaos warbands within the Warp, the sorcerer could have sought employment from any one of them, but rather the sorcerer had chosen to follow Mortarion. Dengef shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

A Great Unclean One came through the trees and Dengef fired his bolter to little or no avail. The creature was a bloated pile of puss and bile spewing out of every pore. In its hand there was a rusted machete, which logically should have snapped or broken long ago, but logic in the Warp seldom resembles that of the materium. The belly of the beast revealed its guts and innards. Mortarion sliced the hand from this creature. The beast bellowed and rammed its head against Mortarion's midsection. Mortarion was dropped into the mud of the swamp.

The creature's hand grew back and it reached into the muck for its machete. Mortarion rose from the water with a vengeance. Grabbing the daemon by the face, he pulled the monster over his should and in a colossal splash bought it down into the waters. Dengef rushed to help his Primarch, but Mortarion brushed him aside. Dengef's hearing picked up some strange sounds. It seemed like the daemons were shouting about Orkz.

With great fury, Mortarion took his scythe and beheaded the Greater Daemon. A shout of triumph came from the Plague Marines, but a single glance from the Primarch quieted all the Space Marines.

/

"How long have I been asleep?" Asked Guilliman. The Battle King was groggy from his time in stasis. Pan had sent the message out to all companies out on duty that the Primarch had awakened. Then he sent out the message to every single successor chapter of the Ultramarines as well. The tenth company was already outside the temple patiently awaiting their Primarch's return.

"It has been 10,000 years since Fulgrim slit your throat," Answered Ephrael Stern.

"And you say that you are wanted by the Inquisition?" Asked Guilliman.

"I am."

"And why is that?"

"I am the Daemonifuge. Seven hundred of my fellow sisters were murdered in cold blood by a daemon of Slaanesh. They embedded within me the power of their souls. I am accused of murdering an Inquisitor, though I am innocent. I have slain Imperial assassins that have come seeking my head. I have also died and have come back from death multiple times."

"So you are a spawn of Chaos powers?"

"Yes and no, I hail from the Sisters of Battle and though Slaanesh twisted their flesh in hideous ways before their death, their souls were pure."

"Sisters of Battle?"

"We are the chamber militants of the Inquistion's Ordo Hereticus and we also serve the Ecchlesiarchy."

"I do not know if I can trust you, but you will be protected by the Ultramarines for now. You there, what is your name?"

"Pan sir, the lads call me Old Pan if you wish," said the elderly Ultramarine.

"Well then Old Pan, you and a retinue of Ultramarines will guard lady Stern here."

"It shall be done my lord," Old Pan saluted and smiled, his face turned bright red now that he had been given an order from his Primarch.

"As for you Stern, I don't know what you are, but you have awakened me from living death and you have healed my body. You will be treated cordially by the Ultramarines and if you prove yourself useful then I will speak upon your behalf."

"Sire, I must warn you of things to come."

"What things to come?"

"The Inquisition refers to me as the Heretic Saint. They may believe that I have corrupted you."

"Pan, would this Inquistion attack me?"

Pan squirmed a bit, but then spoke, "Lord, The Inquisition comes for all those they believe are heretics."

"Though I would prefer to avoid Civil War, it may be inevitable," The Primarch sighed.

"One more thing Stern, you awakened me for a reason. What is that reason?"

"My Lord," Ephrael Stern took a breath. She wanted to choose her words properly, "My Lord, I have been to Dark Library. I have spoken with the Eldar seer…"

"You consort with Xenos?"

"My lord, they showed me a vision."

"And what was this vision?"

"Battle King, your brothers are returning for the End Time. Alien and daemons come for the heart of the Imperium. Battle King, I don't know if you will succeed or not."

"I have never been one to care for prophecy, but I will grant you protection for now. Take her away Pan."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Mortarion and his Plague Marines marched out of the swamp, the Primarch's wings retracted into his body as he stalked through a dry wasteland with scattered giant bones. From beneath the earth there came worms of enormous size, diving in and out. Logically beings of such size should have been crushed to death by their own weight, but once again logic didn't apply in the Warp the same way that it applied in the material realm. The Primarch looked upon the leviathans blocking his path. There was no way the Deathguard could defeat such monstrosities without suffering too many losses.

A mammoth worm rose from the dirt, its body was as white as pearl and gleamed in the reflection of the warp sky. Dengef look toward his Primarch and then back at his fellow Death Guard. Most of them were silent, not even a joke between them. The Primarch's visage was showed no emotion, but Dengef could feel the eeriness in his bones. He could feel Mortarion's frustration despite not being a psyker.

"Deathguard, we have stood before the might of the White Scars, we have fought the Grey Knights, we have battle the scions of the corpse that is my father and much more, but now we face the largest monsters of Nurgle's domain. There is no doubt many of you shall die in the oncoming battles. And there is a possibility Papa Nurgle may not resurrect you. Our deaths may be permanent. But we are the Death Guard, we endure, we press forward and we march on."

"For Mortarion!" shouted Dengef.

"For Mortarion!" responded the Deathguard.

/

"Do you see, Aximand. Mortarion marches into certain doom, many of his marines will die. Many of his soldiers will die. Still he marches on and why…because Mortarion is stubborn. Always using the exact same tactic when nothing else works. He is hard and he will always be hard. He does my bidding and I have never given him an order. I have only given him suggestions and he believes that I my words are the words of Nurgle."

"You are no different from the other miserable Gods of Chaos," replied Aximand in disgust. "We are just tools and puppets for you to play with."

"Oh, I won't be playing much longer. When Chaos dies, so will I," smiled Malice.

"And what is my purpose in all of this?" Replied Aximand.

"For one so full of self-loathing, you lack vision."

"What vision?"

"Do you remember the Battle for Terra? Do you remember when you betrayed Horus Lupercal? Do you remember when you turned off the shields so the Emperor, Sanguinius and Rogal Dorne could board the vessel? Do you remember Little Horus, when you betrayed your Warmaster and your father?"

The image of Mortarion leading his mean to war against the worms disappeared and Aximand was forced to look at himself. He looked at the image of his younger self and cold sweat dripped from his forehead. He saw his younger self press the button that would lead to the death of his father. Horus Aximand, Little Horus, the one who resembled Horus more than any other son had betrayed the Warmaster.

"You don't understand. I…I knew it was wrong. I knew Horus was wrong."

"And so was your Emperor. Little Aximand, I know your pain. You want so much to be loyal to Horus, you love Horus. But the Chaos Gods took him away from you and your Emperor left absolutely nothing of him. You Aximand, you are all that is left of Horus."

"I wanted to leave it all behind."

"You are not alone Aximand, there are many who have been hurt or harmed by your emperor's will. Many die every day just to keep his corpse alive on that throne."

"And why should I care?"

"Just watch."

The globe that showed Aximand's past changed and he could see a small village. There were trees decorating the village along with picturesque cobblestones. People were dressed as though they had come from the annals of ancient terra. There were boys and girls skipping along the pathways. There were farmers with grey beards riding on carts that were pulled by oxen. There were windmills somewhere in the background. There was a serene tone to the place as tiny insects chattered in the background accompanied by the chirps of birds. Then came the fires.

A picture of beauty had become a horrible nightmare of fire. There was screaming in the background as young children were harried into the cellars. The adults began pushing away the flames with their minds. Aximand realized that this was a community of psykers. He watched as the adults tried their best to suffocate the flames in bubbles of pure psychic energy. What came next was even more shocking. Women dressed in power, almost as beautiful as angels descended upon the poor villagers. The racked their chainswords against the chests of these farmers. They sang hymns as they slaughtered the farmers. They were so beautiful, yet so cruel.

"Malice, what will happen to the children?"

"They will be taken to the Emperor and sacrificed to keep him alive. Often people forget that it is the Sisters of Battle who run the Blackships. That they hunt down the psykers and then sacrifice them to the Emperor. This tiny psyker community never stood a chance. This is why your father, Horus, betrayed the Emperor. Your Emperor was a tyrant, he was always a tyrant."

"Can we save the children?"

"I could, but I shall not?"

"Why not?" shouted Aximand with a bit of ire and rage.

"Because they do not interest me, among the wounded there is one with great malice within his heart. Would you like to meet him?"


End file.
